The Angry Boy
by Tantris
Summary: Heralds are not perfect human beings. They are people with flaws and failings like all of us. They have their gifts but they must also have courage and determination in order that their flaws may be turned to facets of what makes them Heralds. They may not do Great Things, but they may rise to greatness by what they do. As always, the Valdemar Universe belongs to Mercedes Lackey.
1. Chapter 1

Angry Boy Chapter 1

Bredin Kase sat on a log reading about King Roald's adventures among the Shin'a'in. His toes dangled in the water of the Terilee, which flowed near the road at Bredin's back.

This was Bredin's favorite spot on a Rest Day. Here, he could read in the sun and, like most Valdemaran children, daydream of becoming a Herald, travelling far and wide like Herald King Roald with his faithful Companion to bear him on his adventures.

Here, too, on the road just outside his home town of Bransat, Bredin could watch for travellers on the road, particularly Heralds. The town was on the main road from Haven to the County seat in Poldara, which was the name both of the County and its capital. Bransat was about three quarters of the distance as one went from Haven to Poldara. Count Wyeth Poldara had a summer manor on the hill overlooking Bransat, so young Bredin saw plenty of Lords and Ladies.

Heralds passed this way almost daily on their way to and from their circuits. This was the main reason Bredin waited here. The Heralds usually travelled fast. Their tireless Companions could outpace any horse and keep their pace for days. Whenever one passed, Bredin would jump to his feet to catch a fleeting glimpse of the poised, confident Heralds and their breath-taking white Companions.

What Bredin loved most was that, even in their hurried travels, the Heralds would smile and wave in response to Bredin's own waving hands.

Which was more than one could say for most of the nobles. A few noblemen would nod as Bredin touched his forelock, most would ignore him utterly unless Bredin did not give obeisance, in which case Bredin would be lucky to escape with a dressing down.

A few others, such as Lord Kensie Poldara, the Count's heir, would take time to taunt and harass Bredin if they could. Bredin heartily wished Lord Kensie would simply ignore him.

Bredin heard the voices and hoofbeats on the road. He glanced up to see Count Wyeth and another Lord riding towards him. A score of yards behind the two, a train of others followed. The other Lord was an extremely handsome man with a very distinguished appearance. From the way Count Wyeth deferred to him, the other man must be very important.

As the two approached, Bredin doffed his cap and touched his forelock. The strange lord nodded absently at Bredin while he listened to Count Wyeth.

"... unbelievable, Orthallen. A Karsite among the Heralds?" Lord Wyeth was saying. "Has Sendar lost his mind? How could he allow such a thing? The man is a spy. There is no other explanation."

Lord Orthallen turned to the Count. "Sendar and Talamir are adamant. The man is now in the Collegium. There is no way to force him out."

"As Weaponsmaster-Second, no less." Count Wyeth spluttered. "The perfect spot to spy on the court when they come to practice."

"Be that as it may. Remember that HE is now where we can spy on him. This Albrach – or whatever his barbaric name is – will be under our eyes at all times." Lord Orthallen's voice was smooth and relaxed, as if the issue meant nothing to him. Somehow, the man's tone grated on Bredin.

Count Wyeth's spotted Bredin. "My Lord, these are privy matters…" He flicked his eye in Bredin's direction.

Lord Orthallen laughed. "Nonsense, Wyeth. We talk of nothing but the plain word about the Court. Besides, I'll bet the boy likes the idea of a Karsite in the Palace no more than we do. Watch."

The two lords halted near Bredin. Lord Orthallen looked Bredin over. The boy's appearance was ordinary with no particular distinguishing features: Brown hair, brown eyes, oval face, handsome enough in a boyish way, but not striking the way his own nephew Kris would be.

He waved the boy over. Bredin approached the two lords and stood a few feet from their horses.

"What is your name, boy?" Lord Orthallen asked.

Before Bredin could speak, Count Wyeth replied. "His name is Bredin Kase, he's the son of a leatherworker and saddler in Bransat, just ahead of us."

Lord Orthallen held up his hand to silence the Count. "How old are you, boy?"

Bredin twisted his cap in his hands. "I will be eight in Corn Moon, Milord."

"Not yet eight? You are tall for your age, Bredin."

"Thank you, Milord." Bredin replied, nervous to be speaking to such a powerful man. Powerful he must be, to speak so casually of the King.

"Well spoken, too." Lord Orthallen smiled. Again, Bredin felt unease at the Lord's speech.

"So, Bredin. What do you think of a Karsite in Haven?" Lord Orthallen asked.

"I don't know, My Lord. Isn't Karse our enemy? It doesn't seem right." Centuries of warfare with the Kingdom to the South had imbued a visceral fear of Karse in every Valdemaran.

"Exactly!" Lord Orthallen smiled broadly. He turned back to Count Wyeth. "See. Even the common people know that this doesn't make sense."

Bredin stared up at the two Lords, whose horses now began to walk away. They did not even bother to dismiss Bredin, who stared after them.

"Sendar says the man was Chosen by a Companion." Lord Wyeth's words drifted back to Bredin.

Lord Orthallen snorted derisively. "Really, Wyeth. I don't know why it is that this Kingdom gives such deference to a bunch of horses."

Bredin opened his mouth, ready to protest. Companions were not horses. Everyone knew that.

"Got something to say, Boiling Bredin?" Lord Kensie taunted Bredin.

Bredin looked up at the Count's heir, who sat on his chestnut gelding. The horse's shoulder was just a handwidth from Bredin, forcing him to crane his neck to face the young lord.

Bredin flushed. "No Milord." He said softly.

"What was that, boy? Speak up." Kensie Poldara grinned down. Behind Kensie, some of the lordling's friends grinned as well, enjoying the game of baiting Bredin.

Bredin felt his anger rising. Lord Kensie was only four years older than Bredin. That was not enough difference in Bredin's mind for Lord Kensie to call him 'boy.'

"Kensie. Leave it." Count Wyeth called back to his son, forestalling another round of Kensie's tormenting Bredin.

Lord Kensie looked up. "Yes, father." He said. The young lord spurred his gelding. The horse's shoulder slammed into Bredin, sending him flying.

The young lord and his friends laughed as they trotted away.

Bredin lay in the dirt of the road until the last of the train had passed and the hoofbeats faded in the distance. He would not cry, he vowed to himself.

Another sound drew Bredin's head up: A chiming hoofbeat and ringing bridle bells. A Herald was coming!

Bredin scrambled to his feet just as the brilliant white Companion appeared around the bend, coming from the direction of Bransat. The Herald sat easily on the Companion, not even holding the reins while she sliced a pear.

Bredin held his breath as the Companion cantered towards him. He was not even aware that he stood in the middle of the road until the Companion halted directly in front of him.

The Herald looked down at him. Her ash blond hair was short and her strong face was almost masculine. Her smile was warm and friendly. "Is there a problem, lad? Is that why you are standing in the middle of the road?" The Herald's voice was rough, but welcoming.

Bredin looked down, suddenly aware of where he was standing. He blushed and jumped aside. "Ah, no Lady Herald. I'm sorry. I was watching and I didn't mean to stop you and I just like to see Heralds and Companions and I was just standing here and didn't know I was in the way and please don't be mad at me for standing in front of you…" Bredin's gush of words trailed out.

Although Bredin had stepped aside, the Herald did not go on her way. She smiled broadly. "You did nothing wrong, lad. I liked to look at Heralds when I was your age, too. What is your name?"

Bredin touched his cap. "I am Bredin Kase, Milady Herald."

The Herald's lips twitched when Bredin said 'Milady'. "Just 'Herald', Bredin. Herald Ylsa at your service. There are no 'My Ladies' or 'Milords' among the Heralds, except for King Sendar and Princess Selenay."

"Yes, Mi- Herald Ylsa." Bredin stared at the Companion, who stared back at him with its blue eyes.

"Felara says it is ok to touch her."

Bredin reached up. His hand, trembling, hesitated an inch from the Companion's face Felara snorted and rubbed her cheek against his hand. Bredin gasped at the silken feel of the hide. "She is so beautiful." He said.

As Bredin stroked Felara, Ylsa looked him over. She noted the dust on his clothes. "You look a little worse for wear, youngling. Did you have a run in with that pack of highborn?" She nodded her head in the direction Count Wyeth had gone.

Bredin looked up at her. "It was nothing, Herald Ylsa." Bredin did not want to give Kensie or his friends a reason to 'get even.'

Ylsa looked at Bredin for a long moment. "Hmph. I'll wager it was more than 'nothing.' I'll not press you for details, but you stay clear of that young snot Kensie Poldara – don't tell anyone I said that – he is trouble."

Bredin ardently wished Kensie would stay away from him, but said nothing.

Seeing the boy's reluctance to speak, Ylsa had a shrewd idea what he was thinking. She left the matter. "Well, Bredin, I must be off. The King will probably have another urgent message to go out as soon as I get back to the Collegium, so I'd better get to it. I think we'll meet again sometime."

As the Companion began to move, Herald Ylsa called back to Bredin. "And Bredin, Felara says to tell you that you are right. Companions are not horses."

Bredin laughed when she said that. He waved at Herald Ylsa until she and Felara were out of sight.

He certainly hoped he'd see Herald Ylsa again. He vowed he would haunt the road every spare minute until she came this way again.

Bredin went back to his perch by the river and picked up his book.


	2. Chapter 2

Angry Boy Chapter 2

Bredin returned to his home in the mid-afternoon. His parents were not home, so Bredin went looking for his friends. He found Tagan and Rhys near the Temple of the Iron God, where they were watching the monks drill.

The Temple of the Iron God housed a militant order of warrior monks. In addition to their rituals of prayer, the monks drilled in combat for most of every day. The monks pledged themselves to defend the just and weak against the strong and wicked. In times of war, they provided companies to the King for the defense of Valdemar. Only once had they ever refused to help the King of Valdemar in war: When King Pelinor had sent troops over the border in pursuit of a fleeing army, the monks had downed their weapons en masse and immediately marched home to their temples. The monks were defenders and refused to be aggressors.

If there were bandits known to be in the area, the monks would also patrol the roads and escort travellers.

The boys went to school at the temple every morning except Rest Day. Valdemaran law demanded that all children between five and twelve years attend school every day to learn to read and do basic sums. Most students were taught in the temples of their towns. For the Kase boys, that meant the school at the Temple of the Iron God. Girls in their neighborhood went to the Masran Temple.

Bredin told his friends about meeting Herald Ylsa. Tag and Rhys stared at him in disbelief.

"You actually got to pet a Companion?" Tag said. "You lucky dog!"

"What did she say?" Rhys asked.

"Herald Ylsa just said hello and asked me my name. She was really nice." Bredin decided he wouldn't say anything about what Ylsa had said about Kensie Poldara. He'd promised he wouldn't, hadn't he? He forgot his own speechlessness.

"Did she say anything else, Bred?" Tag asked.

"She said she thought we'd meet again. I guess she figured I often watch for Heralds on the road and would see her when she was going by. She said she carried messages for the King."

"She must be a Herald-Courier." Rhys said with a knowing air. Rhys claimed that a second cousin of his named Beltren was a Herald. Among his friends, Rhys deemed himself the authority on all things about Heralds. "Did you notice a silver arrow on her sleeve? Herald Couriers wear silver arrows."

Bredin admitted he had not noticed.

"Kernos, Bredin! Don't you notice anything?" Rhys rolled his eyes at his friend's inattention.

"He certainly doesn't notice how to behave before his betters." Kensie Poldara said from behind Bredin. All three boys jumped at the unwelcome appearance of the young lord.

"What did I do?" Bredin said. He flushed, knowing that Kensie meant some insult.

"You insulted Lord Orthallen." Kensie accused. "Next to the King, he is the most important man in the kingdom."

Bredin felt his anger starting to rise. "I did not!" He contradicted. "I touched my cap and answered his question politely."

"Keep a civil tongue in your head, sirrah!" Kensie said. "You were about to say something insulting to Lord Orthallen's back when I stopped you."

"He said Companions were horses!" Bredin said.

"And what was wrong with that?" Kensie's voice had a tone of amused contempt.

"Companions are not horses!" Bredin's voice was rising.

Kensie sneered at Bredin. He turned ostentatiously to his friends, who were enjoying the spectacle as the young lord baited Bredin. "He says 'Companions are not horses'! They look like horses. They have manes and tails like horses. They eat like horses." He sniffed ostentatiously. "They smell like horses."

His friends laughed as Kensie taunted the younger boy.

"So what are they if they are not horses?" Kensie grinned at Bredin.

"They are Companions!" Bredin was shouting now.

"Oooh! They are Compaannionnss!" Kensie drew out the word to goad Bredin further. "That tells me so much." He turned to his friends. "Do you think Companion-horses shit like other horses?"

Kensie's friends laughed again. "Maybe they shit rainbows." Kensie's younger sister Naril said, provoking further laughter.

"Felara said they are not horses." Bredin was screaming now.

"Who is Felara?" Kensie asked.

"Felara is the Companion I saw today!" Bredin shouted.

Kensie laughed. "Oh, you are talking to horses, now. What's next, cats and dogs?"

"She didn't talk to me! Herald Ylsa told me what she said!" Bredin shouted again.

"How convenient! The Herald said her Companion said that the Companion was not a horse. You are so gullible, twerp." Kensie was laughing as he spoke.

"And you are stupid…" That was as far as Bredin got before Kensie smashed him with a fist.

Bredin fell to the ground and Kensie kicked him. "Keep a civil tongue in your head, you lowborn brat." The young lord spat.

Bredin tried to get up, but Kensie knocked him down again, then kicked him once more.

As Bredin struggled to rise once more, a strong arm grabbed him and dragged him to his feet.

"What is going on here?" Father Toma demanded.

Father Toma was Patriarch of the Temple. He was tall and imposing. His face was lean and bore scars from fighting bandits and border raiders. His lithe, powerful frame bore witness to his decades of constant practice. His dark hair was peppered with a few strands of grey showing his forty five years. He was clearly accustomed to giving orders and being obeyed.

Kensie Poldara spoke first. "This peasant insulted me, Father."

Father Toma barely blinked. "He did? Very well, My Lord, I will see that he is disciplined."

Outraged, Bredin spoke up. "He said…"

He got no further. Father Toma shook his arm roughly. "Shut up, boy."

Turning back to Kensie, he added in a whisper, "My Lord, it is probably best for your good name if you allow me to handle this." He rolled his eyes significantly at the people gathered around.

Kensie grinned. "Ah, I see what you mean."

Kensie started to turn away, but Father Toma stayed him for a moment. Turning back to Bredin, the Patriarch said sternly. "Bredin, you will apologize to Lord Kensie."

Bredin looked at Father Toma in surprise. He could not believe that the priest would take Lord Kensie's word without even asking him for his side. He opened his mouth to protest, but the priest shook him by his arm.

"Apologise!" The priest insisted.

Bredin stared at the priest, who stared back implacably. Bredin knew the priest would not be dissuaded and would hold Bredin until he complied. Sullenly, Bredin looked at Lord Kensie's boots. "I am sorry I insulted you, Lord Kensie." Bredin whispered.

"I can't hear you." Father Toma said. "And face Lord Kensie when you speak to him."

With a gulp, Bredin looked up at Kensie's smirk. "I am sorry I insulted you, Lord Kensie." Bredin spoke a little louder.

Kensie looked down his nose at Bredin. "I should have made allowances for your birth. Your apology is accepted, boy." Every word dripped with condescension.

The young nobleman turned away, followed by his coterie. Bredin clenched his fists, but said nothing to their retreating backs.

Father Toma pulled on Bredin's arm. "Come with me, Bredin."

"Excuse me, Father." A young boy, one of the ones who had been with Lord Kensie, spoke up. He looked a year or two younger than Bredin. Blond haired and blue eyed, the boy was stunningly handsome.

Father Toma stopped. "Yes, young Master?"

Pointing at Bredin, the young noble said "He didn't insult my cousin. My cousin was picking on him, making fun of him and trying to make him mad. It wasn't his fault." The youngster looked anxiously in the direction his cousin had gone. "Please don't tell Kensie I told you that."

Father Toma contemplated the boy for a moment. "Thank you for telling me that, lad. What is your name?"

"I am Kris Pelinor, Father." The boy said with a graceful bow. He looked anxiously after Lord Kensie. "I must be off before they miss me."

"Thank you, Master Kris." The priest said. "You'd better get going."

As Kris turned to run after Lord Kensie, Bredin spoke up. "My thanks as well, Lord Kris." He said with a bow that was nowhere near as graceful as the young noble's.

Kris smiled back a golden, friendly smile that cheered Bredin up. "You're welcome." He called back as he ran after his cousin.

"Come along, Bredin." Father Toma pulled him by the arm.

Bredin fought against Father Toma, but the priest's grip was too strong. "You heard him!" Bredin protested. "You heard Lord Kris say it was Kensie's fault."

The priest did not loosen his grip. "I said 'Come along', Bredin. Now move!" He pulled Bredin towards the temple.

Yielding to the inevitable, Bredin walked with Father Toma. As Bredin cooperated, Father Toma softened his hold, but did not release it. Father Toma marched Bredin into the temple and took him to his cramped office. He closed the door. Releasing Bredin, he pointed to a chair. Bredin sat down. Frowning and feeling very aggrieved.

Father Toma turned to a cupboard and pulled out a basin. He picked up a pitcher and poured water into the basin.

After putting the basin on the floor beside Bredin's chair, the priest knelt beside the boy. He dipped a cloth in the water and began cleaning the bruises on Bredin's face.

With a sigh, the priest said "Bredin, when will you learn not to rise to Kensie Poldara's taunts?"

Bredin endured the sting of the water on his scraped skin. He looked at the priest in bewilderment. "You knew?" He asked. "Why did you make me apologise?"

The priest lowered the cloth for a moment. He looked Bredin in the eyes. "What do you think Lord Kensie thought when I made you apologise?"

Bredin thought a moment. "He thought you believed him?" He said tentatively.

The priest nodded, urging Bredin to go on. "He thought he'd won!" Bredin felt a little of the anger creeping back into his voice.

"And?" The priest prompted.

"He thought you were going to punish me?" Bredin said uncertainly.

"So?" Father Toma said, arching his eyebrows.

"He stopped kicking me!" Remembering that the priest had already stopped the beating at that point. Bredin changed it to "He didn't want to hit me anymore!" As he got the point, Bredin grinned.

The priest nodded again. He resumed cleaning Bredin's bruises and scrapes. "Suppose I had scolded Lord Kensie for bullying you? Suppose I had told him to apologise?"

The notion of Kensie Poldara apologising to anyone was impossible. "He wouldn't have apologised. He would have got mad at you for telling him to."

"That's right, Bredin. He would have. What do you think he would have done after I went back to the temple?"

The answer to that was easy. "He would have started beating me again." Bredin said.

"Exactly so." Father Toma agreed. "Now back to my question: Why do you always rise to his bait?"

"But he keeps bugging me!" Bredin complained.

"Why does he bother you?"

"He wants to make me mad." Bredin said. It appeared obvious to him.

"What happens when you get mad?" Father Toma continued.

"I shout at him." Bredin said softly.

The priest raised an eyebrow. "When you shout at him, do you say nice things?"

"No." Bredin's voice was almost a whisper.

"Do you say things that are insulting or rude?"

Bredin looked down, shamefaced. "Yes." He said, still whispering.

"What happens then?" When the boy was silent, the priest went on. "Bredin, look at me. What happens when you say rude or insulting things to Lord Kensie?"

Obediently, Bredin looked at Father Toma. "He beats me up."

"He beats you because you gave him an excuse to beat you. Which is what he was after all along." The priest said flatly. Bredin's eyes widened as he realized that the priest was fully aware of what went on between Lord Kensie and Bredin.

"Bredin, Kensie Poldara is a cruel bully. You are not the only person he torments, but you are one of his favorite targets. He knows he can prod you into saying something that will give him an excuse to beat you. He aims his words to hurt you, too.

"So I return to what I asked: Why do you rise to his bait? Why do you give him the excuse he wants?"

"But he picks on me," Bredin protested, "why does he pick on me?"

"I just told you why." Father Toma said. "You fall into his trap every time. Learn not to."

"How?" Bredin demanded. "He uses everything I say as an excuse."

"Say nothing." The priest said.

This puzzled Bredin. "But if I say nothing, he'll say I'm ignoring him. Or I'm stupid. He beats me for being stupid."

"Try to say nothing in a way that sounds like you are saying something." The priest advised.

Bredin stared at the priest. This made no sense at all. Father Toma took the opportunity to wash Bredin's face with the cloth.

Seeing Bredin's confusion, the priest suggested. "Apologize no matter what he accuses you of. Say 'I am sorry if I offended My Lord' even if the accusation is false."

"Why?" Bredin said. "Why should I apologize if I've done nothing wrong?" It seemed completely unfair to the boy.

The priest wrung out the cloth over the basin. Picking up the basin, he stood. "Because it will keep you from being beaten." He said with a sigh. "Or, at least, reduce the number of times he beats you."

Bredin stared up at the priest, trying to grasp what he'd said. "But it's not right!" He said finally.

Father Toma sighed again. "No, it isn't right. But he is a lord and you and I are commoners. Unless he breaks the law in a serious way, there is nothing you or I can do to touch him. The best we can do is try to avoid him and hope he leaves us alone."

He pointed at Bredin. "As long as you keep rising to his bait, Kensie Poldara will not leave you alone."

Bredin slumped. He didn't know how he could do what the priest suggested. It seemed impossible. Nevertheless, he said. "I'll try, Father Toma."

The priest gave Bredin a measuring look. He knew he was asking the boy for more maturity than could be expected from an eight year old. It didn't help that the boy was naturally hot-tempered and that his brothers – one younger, one older – teamed up to tease him. But the boy had so much promise in other ways and had a good heart at bottom. Father Toma hoped he could help Bredin avoid becoming like his father Enro – hot tempered, prone to rages and lashing out with blind fury.

The thought of Enro reminded Father Toma of the supposed reason he had brought Bredin to his office. He went behind his desk and picked up a switch. The boy's eyes widened with fear.

"Bredin. Everyone thinks I brought you here to punish you, so I have to make them think I did. I want you to yell like you are being switched every time I hit the cushion. Can you do that?"

Bredin's expression changed to a smile as soon as he realized what the priest planned.

Father Toma put a finger to his lips, then drew tear lines down his cheeks. Bredin nodded.

The priest raised the switch and brought it down hard on the cushion. Bredin screamed as though he'd been hit. The priest hit the cushion and Bredin screamed once more. The priest mimed crying to Bredin, who began to sob and wail. The priest hit the cushion three more times and Bredin cried out every time.

"I hope you've learned your lesson." The priest said loudly. He signalled Bredin to keep crying.

Bredin wanted to laugh, but he did as the priest wanted. Father Toma put the switch away and make a show of walking with a sore backside. Bredin nodded and continued to 'weep'.

Father Toma took Bredin by the arm and assumed a stern, angry face once more. He opened the door and brought Bredin out while the boy made a show of weeping and favoring his backside.

Those in the hallway looked pointedly away from Bredin and Father Toma, trying to appear unaware, though one or two boys made shaming fingers at Bredin when they thought Father Toma could not see it.

As they came out into the temple yard, Bredin's parents entered from the street. Zelar looked worried while Enro appeared angry. The two of them hurried up to the priest.

Father Toma shoved Bredin towards his parents. "I'll not have Nobles offended in this Temple." He said.

Enro glared at his son. "I heard about it. Lord Kensie came along just as his father finished giving me an important commission. Fortunately, Count Poldara is a tolerant man, but I could have lost it because of you. I outta give you a hiding." He shook Bredin's shoulder.

"I have seen to it that Bredin had a discussion with the switch." Father Toma. "I find a quick application to the backside is the true seat of learning for some."

Bredin fought hard to keep looking doleful at the priest's deceptive comment.

Enro shook his son again. "I guess the good Father has saved my arm a workout. I thankee Father." He nodded at the priest and led Bredin away, followed anxiously by Zelar.

Father Toma watched stone-faced as they walked away. As the people around him turned their attention to other matters, he sighed and started back to the temple, nearly bumping into Father Milo, his predecessor as Chief Priest.

"I beg your pardon, Father." Father Toma said. "I was thinking of other matters and not watching where I went."

"I thought I trained you better than that." The old man said. "A priest and a warrior must always be aware of where he goes."

Father Toma laughed. "Still my master, after all these years." Father Milo had been Chief Priest when Toma had entered the Temple as an acolyte over thirty years before. Father Milo had seen potential and personally instructed young Toma in both the martial and religious beliefs of the worshippers of the Iron God.

"Hmph. I hope you have added to what I taught you." Milo said.

One of the central commandments of the Iron God was that each generation of his followers should add to the knowledge accumulated by their predecessors. 'Know what is behind you, look for what is ahead' went the proverb.

"I try, Father." Toma said. "I have prepared a new thesis on testing boys to match them with the right weapon."

Father Milo shrugged. "We have always done that."

"By trial and error." Father Toma replied. "We say, 'Here, Dik, work with this sword. Maybe a sabre will suit you' or 'Jan, try the mace, your shoulders are broad and strong,' but we never have built a system of testing and measuring our acolytes before we put a weapon in their hands."

Milo quirked a shaggy eyebrow at his successor. "An intriguing concept, especially as so many choose their weapon before they begin their training."

"And most must begin anew when they find they lack the build or co-ordination to master their chosen weapon." A touch of exasperation showed in Father Toma's voice. "We could save our monks and ourselves much time and grief if we followed the natural bent from the start."

"With patience and training, any boy can learn to use a weapon properly." The elder priest said tartly.

"Learn to use it? Yes." Father Toma said. "But to truly master a weapon? Very few reach mastery. Nor does mastery of, say, archery make one a master of the sword."

"Many of our best have mastery of several weapons." Milo said. "You, for instance."

"I will concede that natural co-ordination and ability to learn can be applied across many disciplines, but for most we can only expect superiority in one or two of the Arts." Father Toma was well aware of his own abilities and did not dissemble to garner praise.

Milo shook his head. "Well, I do not know if what you suggest is possible. You have chosen a worthy study. At worst, you will learn that what you seek is beyond our abilities."

Father Toma laughed. "To know what cannot be is still more than knowing nothing." He quoted another proverb of the Iron God.

"Isn't that what you were just teaching young Bredin?" Milo said. "That he cannot always expect things to be just and right?"

Father Toma's face fell. "I see such promise in the boy. Intelligence and a burning desire to be right; a willingness to be diligent and work hard to be the very best he can be. I just hope his temper and impatience don't destroy all of that promise before it can be fulfilled."

"Well, you can't beat it into him." Father Milo said. When Toma turned to look at him, Milo added softly "I know the difference in the sound made by a switch hitting a cushion and one hitting a boy's backside."

Father Toma looked around quickly to ensure no one was near enough to overhear. As he opened his mouth to ask Milo how he had known, the older priest went on "You aren't the first Patriarch to think of that, you know. Never tried that one on you, but you figured it out on your own." Milo grinned.

Toma grinned back. "I thought I was being original. Now I find I am just following another hidden tradition." He sobered again. "Bredin will learn from his own good sense. Beating him will just drive the good sense out of him. Beat him too much and he will be a man like his father: Brilliant at what he does and loving by his own lights, but with demonic rage always burning just under the surface."

Milo sighed. "I agree. We must save the boy from his temper. What do you think of the other?"

Toma knew that Milo referred to Kensie Poldara. "Already lost, I am afraid. Full of pride based on nothing but his rank. Intelligent enough to succeed his father if he were given discipline and direction, but so over-indulged that he does not realize his limits. I fear he will end badly. I hope he does not take too many others with him."

"A harsh judgment on a boy not yet twelve years old." Milo said.

"Do you disagree?" Father Toma said.

Milo sighed again. "No, not unless his parents take serious steps to curb him and teach him responsibility. He needs to know his rank is a duty not a privilege."

"Do you see any sign of that?" Toma asked.

"Certainly not between now and his twelfth birthday." Milo shook his head.

"Aye." Toma agreed. The High Priest of the Twain had told him a sennight before that Count Wyeth Poldara had decided to name Kensie as Baron of Bransat. The Heir of Poldara traditionally was the Baron of Bransat from the age of majority to whenever he succeeded to the County. Many in the County quietly disapproved of Kensie being granted Baronial Arms six years before he was normally entitled to them. It was yet another indulgence for an already pampered young man.

As if the granting of the title were not sufficient, Wyeth was presenting his son with an Ashkevron war stallion as a birthday gift. Like all young noblemen, Kensie had been riding since he could sit up, but Father Toma doubted the young man had the experience, patience or skill to handle such a beast.

"Maybe there will be a miraculous change." Father Toma said.

"The Iron God tells us that miracles begin within ourselves, not from On High." Milo reminded him.

Now it was Father Toma who shook his head. "That lies with the boy. Just as Bredin's fate lies within himself. I worry that Bredin's rages may injure both himself and others."

Toma's words had a feeling of baleful prophecy. The two priests shivered and made the sign against evil.


	3. Chapter 3

Angry Boy Chapter 3

Bredin carefully drew the beveler along the lines of the skirting panel.

Count Wyeth had commissioned a saddle for his son Kensie. The saddle was to fit the stallion that the Count had bought his son for Kensie's twelfth birthday. Horse and saddle would be presented together in ten days' time.

Bredin's father Enro had seen the commission as recognition of his skill as a master leatherworker. A successful design would lead to more commissions from the Count and the nobles who clustered around him.

Bredin worked diligently at the pattern, despite his dislike of the recipient. Bredin did not understand why the Poldara Heir was being given the use of the Baronial Arms six years before the young lord was entitled to them.

Bredin told himself his disapproval was strictly on the grounds of legal right, not because he personally despised Kensie Poldara.

Bredin was not the only person who despised the young snot. Lord Kensie and his friends made a point of tormenting everyone of lesser rank. The band of young lords had earned themselves the epithet "the popinjays", though no one called them that to their faces. Because Bredin was close at hand when Kensie and his friends were in residence at Bransat House, he was a favorite target.

Bredin could be counted on to boil over and lash out at Kensie's taunts, giving the lordling an excuse to beat Bredin for his 'insolence.' No one seemed to care that Bredin was four years younger than Kensie.

Bredin particularly resented the way his father would thrash him afterwards for 'disrespecting his betters'.

Asen and Raidal, Bredin's brothers, also took delight in getting a rise out of Bredin, teasing the middle boy until he took a swing at one or the other. Asen, older and bigger, could easily outfight Bredin. Raidal, two years younger, would run to their mother when Bredin took after him and Zelar would tan Bredin's backside for 'bullying.'

His brothers' teasing was limited, though. If their torments were too obvious, they would be punished along with Bredin.

For now, Bredin concentrated on his father's design. He took pride in the fact he was better than Asen at accurately tooling the leather. Asen was three years older and had been helping his father that much longer; the elder son's goading was partly driven by jealousy.

Bredin finished the curve and put the beveler down. He touched the leather with a cloth to moisten it a bit more. He reached for his pear stamp. His hand fell on an empty space in the rack.

Bredin looked around. Raidal was playing with the pear stamp, twisting it around his fingers.

"Raid, give me that." Bredin growled at his brother.

"No." Raidal smiled impudently.

Bredin grabbed for the stamp, but Raidal jumped back out of reach. Bredin tackled his brother and the two fell to the floor, knocking the workbench over as they went down. Tools and pieces of leather fell around them.

The two boys rolled on the floor. Bredin flailed at Raidal. His brother swung back. The stamp, still gripped in Raidal's hand scratched Bredin's cheek.

Bredin gripped Raidal's arm and slammed it down over the leg of the fallen workbench. Raidal screamed as his forearm broke.

Bredin stopped, staring in horror at what he had done.

A hand gripped Bredin's collar and pulled him off of his brother.

"You little bastard. Look what you've done." Enro shouted at Bredin. He shook Bredin hard, then flung him aside before turning to Raidal, who still wailed on the floor.

"Raid started it…" Bredin began.

"Shut up." Enro said. "I'll deal with you later." He lifted Raidal in his arms and headed towards the door.

Zelar, drawn by Raidal's screams came in. Seeing the boy in Enro's arms, she hurried to her husband.

"Bredin broke his arm." Was Enro's only explanation. Zelar shot at poisonous look at her middle son as the two adults hurried out the door to the Masran Sisters' Temple. There were two full Healers among the Masrans as well as several ungifted sisters with training in caring for the sick.

Bredin picked himself up off the floor. He looked around at the scattered tools and pieces of leather. His cheek had begun to sting and he dabbed at it with his cloth. It felt wet. He looked at the cloth. It was stained with blood. Bredin wiped the blood off as best he could, but he could still feel it dripping.

Asen stared at him from the other side of the shop. "You're in for it now, Bred." He smirked at his brother before turning back to his stitching.

Bitterly, Bredin had to agree. With a sigh, he righted the bench and started picking things up while holding the cloth over the cut on his cheek.

Bredin found the piece of skirting. It was stained with blood. Bredin hurried to the pump and poured water onto the leather, but the blood had soaked into the grain. The damage was irreparable.

Bredin walked out of the shop and around to the back. He squeezed into the narrow space between the storage shed and Ilis Pedden's chicken coop. Bredin sat on the ground, wrapped his arms around his knees and wept.

The sun was setting when Enro found Bredin. "Come out of there." Enro said. Bredin did not look up.

Enro grabbed his son's collar and hauled him out of his hiding place. The boy fell on the ground in front of Enro. In his other hand, Enro held a heavy leather strap. He walloped Bredin on the face with the strap, reopening the cut on Bredin's cheek.

Bredin yelped and covered his face with his arms as Enro hit him again. After the third blow, Bredin rolled over and curled into a ball. Enro continued to belabor his son with the strap.

"That's enough, Enro." Zack Pedden said. Enro continued to beat Bredin, who cried out with each blow.

The blows stopped. "I said that is enough, Enro."

Bredin looked up beneath his arm to see their neighbor holding Enro's arm. Beyond Zack Pedden, his two sons, Marin and Bennis were staring wide-eyed.

"Stay out of this, cripple. He is my son, not yours." Enro spat at his neighbor.

Zack Pedden's lips tightened. "I may have a club foot, but I am strong enough to hold you. I won't stand here and watch you murder your son."

"Do you know what this little bastard did?" Enro's lips had flecks of foam as he stared at Zack.

"He broke his brother's arm." Zack said quietly. "That does not warrant killing him. Half the boys in this town have broken an arm or leg at one time or another, many of them in fights with their brothers."

"That's not all. He ruined an important piece of work. I'll barely have time to fix it before the Count comes for the saddle." Enro said, struggling to free his arm from Zack's grip. Zack was a carpenter, his arms were very strong and Enro could not break loose. "Let go of my arm, the brat is going to get the beating he deserves."

Zack looked into Enro's eyes. "You have beaten him enough. I will not let go of your arm until you drop that strap." He shook Enro's arm to emphasize his point.

Enro stared back angrily for a moment before letting go of the strap. Zack released him. Enro bent to pick up the strap.

"If you hit him again, now or later in your house, I will lay a complaint of child abuse before the next Herald that comes through this town." Zack said. Enro looked hard at his neighbor. The threat was not idle. Lying as it did on the main road from Haven to Poldara, Bransat saw Heralds passing through two or three times a sennight.

Frowning, Enro looked down at Bredin. "Get up." He growled.

Fearful and weeping, Bredin got to his feet. Pain shot through his back, arms and legs with each movement. Blood flowed from a dozen points where the strap had cut him.

Bredin looked around. Asen and Raidal, the latter with his arm in a sling, stood watching. Both looked terrified. None of them had ever seen their father so enraged. His mother looked at him with an odd mix of anger and concern. She was still upset by Raidal's injury, but she had not expected her husband to punish Bredin so savagely.

"I'm sorry, Raid." Bredin said to his younger brother.

"You should be." Zelar said. She turned and walked into the house. Asen and Raidal followed her. Enro, after another black look at Bredin, went in as well. Bredin limped painfully behind his family.

Zelar sent Bredin to the pump, where he painfully cleaned the blood and dirt from his head and arms. Afterwards, Enro banished Bredin from the table and sent him to the storage shed for the night. Bredin tried to sleep on the sacks, but every part of his body ached. He tossed and turned through the night.

In the morning, Bredin pulled himself to his feet and painfully made his way to the table. His bruised muscles had stiffened in the night. Every move was agony.

Still angry, Enro stared at his son. "You've made a fine mess of things."

Once again, Bredin protested that Raidal had taken the tool he needed.

"That is no excuse." Enro cut him off. "I can't have a helper in my shop who is going to wreck it every time he loses his temper.

"You are forbidden ever to go into the shop again."

Bredin stared at his father. "But I was only half done the skirting…" He began.

Enro slapped his son's face. "And now it has to be done over completely, thanks to you.

"I will be very lucky if I can get the saddle done by the time Count Poldara calls for it. I am going to have to work day and night. I don't want to see you."

Tears sprang to Bredin's eyes. "What will I do?" He asked. Dreams of Heraldic Glory aside, he had thought he would succeed his father in the shop because he was so much better at the work than Asen.

"You can help your mother around the house and yard. She can use a hand. Never come into my shop again." Enro got to his feet and went out the door.

Bredin watched his father march over to the shop. He looked around the table. Asen smirked at him. Raidal looked shocked.

Zelar broke the silence. "The three of you get off to school. If you don't hurry, you will be late."

Although all three boys had been helping in their father's shop since they were six, they still had their morning classes. Asen and Raidal got to their feet, grabbed their coats and hurried off.

Bredin looked at his mother. Zelar looked away. Bredin began to gather the plates. "I will do that. You go to school." Zelar still did not look at her son.

Bredin limped painfully off to the school. He was late, the last to arrive. Brother Manas Gibault, the instructor for those in their eighth year, looked at Bredin. His eyes flashed to the bruises and cuts on Bredin's face and arms. Brother Manas waved Bredin to his seat. Tag and Rhys, along with the rest of Bredin's classmates looked at Bredin's bruises and nodded knowingly.

Bredin enjoyed his classes. Reading and sums came easily to him and he was ahead of his age group. If Father Toma had not been adamant that all boys the same age be taught together, Bredin would be learning with the boys two years older and might hope to join the few students who continued their lessons beyond the mandatory age of twelve.

Brother Manas did not try to keep Bredin back with his contemporaries and assigned him different books. He encouraged the boy to study harder. He had even begun to teach the boy Karsite. The Brothers of the Iron God thought it important to know how their enemies thought; as Karse was Valdemar's worst enemy, they emphasized Karsite in their language classes.

Half a candlemark before noon, Father Toma came into the room. Pointing at Bredin, he said "You, come with me." The other boys smirked as Bredin limped after the priest.

Bredin arrived at Father Toma's office. The priest was already seated behind his desk.

Today, his expression was grave as he looked at Bredin, who stood in front of him. Father Toma did not invite the boy to sit.

"Close the door." The priest ordered. Bredin did so and turned back.

"Tell me what happened." Father Toma demanded. He did not need to say what he was asking about.

Bredin told Father Toma how he had fought with Raidal and broken his arm. He admitted he had lost his temper and attacked his brother. Bredin finished by telling how he had spoiled the leather skirting by getting blood on it.

Father Toma stared at Bredin for a long time after the boy finished. He had heard the story from others already. He noted that Bredin made no excuse for what he had done and had not even mentioned Raidal taunting him with the tool. The only good thing that the priest could see in the mess was that Bredin accepted his own responsibility for what had happened. He also noted that Bredin left out the beating he had received from his father.

"Why did you get mad at Raidal?" Father Toma wanted Bredin to tell his side of it fully.

Bredin closed his eyes and looked down. "He took my pear stamp." Bredin's voice was almost inaudible.

The boy's shame was so palpable that Father Toma hated to ask his next question. "Was that worth breaking his arm?"

Since Bredin had spent most of the night obsessing over that very question, his answer was prompt. "No. I could have ignored him. I could have walked away. I could have done anything else." Bredin burst into tears.

Father Toma stood and went over to the side table. Wetting a cloth from the pitcher, he went to Bredin and wiped the tears off Bredin's face. "That is true." He said. "So what will you do the next time?"

Bredin's answer shocked the priest. "There won't be a next time. Papa told me I can never go in the shop again."

Father Toma covered his surprise by walking slowly back around the desk and taking his seat once more. Knowing Enro's tendency to carry grudges, Father Toma had no doubt that the banishment was permanent.

The priest stared at the boy for a moment before quietly telling him to go back to his class.

After Bredin had gone, Toma stared at the door for a long time. How could something be salvaged from this mess?


	4. Chapter 4

The Angry Boy Chapter 4

The next day, Kensie Poldara was waiting for Bredin as he left his classes.

Heading home, Bredin limped along. He felt every bruise and cut; his muscles ached worse than ever two days after the beating. His father had not relented on his banishment of Bredin from the workshop and his mother had little patience with Bredin's fumbling attempts to help with the housework. Lost in his own misery, Bredin stared at the ground as he hobbled towards home.

"Peasant, come here." Kensie's scarcely audible voice startled Bredin, who winced as he looked around to see where his tormentor was. Kensie stood behind a wagon parked between two buildings. He sneered contemptuously at Bredin. "I said 'come here' peasant." The young lord raised his voice slightly and waved his hand impatiently to beckon Bredin over.

Bredin looked around. There was no one nearby and Kensie was alone. He hesitated, fearing what the older boy wanted.

"Come here!" Kensie hissed once more, his face turning to an angry grimace.

"Yes, my lord." Bredin. He forced his aching muscles to walk as quickly as possible towards where Kensie stood. He stopped just out of reach of the older boy.

"Chase Tanner is bringing my new horse to your father's shop to be fitted for a saddle today." The young lord said. Chase Tanner was Count Wyeth's horsemaster. In addition to teaching the Count's children, he oversaw the training of the horses, frequently exercising the more difficult horses themselves. Master Tanner was a frequent visitor to Enro's shop. He thought highly of Enro's work and had recommended Enro to the Count for the job of crafting a saddle. Bredin liked Master Tanner, mainly because the horsemaster had praised the craftsmanship of a breastplate that Bredin had decorated and then praised Bredin when Bredin had boasted that the work was his.

"I heard so, my lord." Bredin said. He wasn't surprised that Kensie had found out. The gossip about the gift of the horse was everywhere in the village. One of Kensie's coterie would have brought him word. Bredin was surprised that none of them were with Kensie now.

"I want to see the horse." Kensie said. "This is my chance."

"But it is supposed to be a surprise for your birthday." Even as he said it, Bredin realized how foolish that sounded, considering that Kensie already knew.

Kensie sneered at the younger boy. "I know how to act surprised, boy. Don't be stupid. I want to see that horse now. I want to know what I am getting."

"Isn't he being kept at Sir Mittel's…" Kensie lunged at Bredin, grabbing his jerkin and shaking him roughly before he could finish his sentence. Bredin cried out in pain.

"I know where the beast is being kept. Do you think I can just wander into Faro Mittel's stable and look around without being noticed?" Kensie kept his voice low, but the anger and menace in his words was plain. His face was inches from Bredin's.

"No, my lord." Bredin said softly, hoping to placate the older boy.

"That's right, I can't." Kensie growled at Bredin. "And I can't just wander in to your father's yard if I am going to be 'surprised', can I?"

"But how will you see him if you can't come into my pa's shop?" Bredin was confused.

"You stupid oaf. I won't just wander in for anyone to see. Because you are going to find me a place to hide while I watch." He shook Bredin again.

"But my pa has forbidden me to go into his shop." Bredin protested.

Kensie shook Bredin once more. "Kerenos, you are an idiot! The horse will be in the yard, do you think he'd fit in the workshop?"

"No, my lord. But my father will be angry if he found out."

"I will be angry if you don't find me a place to hide." Kensie bared his teeth in an ugly grin.

Bredin considered this for a moment. There was no way out. Refuse and the lordling would beat him. Do as Kensie demanded and risk being caught and beaten by his father.

His only hope was to find a place for Kensie to spy on the horse and pray that they weren't discovered. As Bredin thought through his predicament, he could see the older boy's impatience growing. Kensie's grip tightened and he pulled Bredin towards him. As the young lord opened his mouth to speak, Bredin said "Yes, my lord. I will figure out a way."

"Alright, peasant. Let's go." Kensie let go of Bredin's jerkin. Bredin turned to go back to the street.

"Not down the street, you ass!" Kensie grabbed Bredin and spun him around. "I can't be seen with you in the street. We will go behind." He pushed Bredin towards the back.

As they went behind the building, Bredin remembered the storage shed. That would be the best place to hide Kensie. The shed was dark, but there were gaps between the boards that would allow them to watch the yard while remaining unseen.

Bredin led Kensie behind the shops and houses along the street while the older boy cursed him for being slow. They reached the back of Ilis Pedden's chicken coop. "Please wait here, my lord, while I make sure no one is watching." Bredin slipped between the coop and the storage shed to scan the yard.

Seeing no one around, Bredin waved Kensie forward. Kensie could barely fit between the two buildings, but managed to make his way to where Bredin waited. Bredin led him to the door and inside the shed. "You can watch from here my lord." Bredin said. Kensie was already peering through the gaps to find the best viewpoint. "We can hide behind those barrels if anyone comes in." Without stopping his search for the best spot to watch, Kensie waved absent acknowledgement of what Bredin said.

Once satisfied he had found the best vantage, Kensie settled down to wait. Looking at Bredin, he whispered "This will do, boy. You better keep this secret. If anyone finds out I was here, I will kick you from here to Karse. Do you understand me?"

Bredin could see the menace in the young lord's face. "Yes, my lord." He said softly.

After a quarter-candlemark, they could hear a commotion in the street. Both looked out into the yard.

Asen emerged from the shop and looked down the street. He stuck his head back into the shop. "They're coming, dad!" He said, then turned back to watch.

Enro, followed by his journeyman Fil Crocker and Raidal came out of the shop to greet those bringing the horse.

The noise in the street grew louder as the horse and its handlers neared the shop. From where they hid, the boys could see only a small part of the street between the buildings. One of the first people who came into view was Count Wyeth.

"Kerenos!" Kensie swore. "If my father finds me here, he will be furious." He looked at Bredin again and whispered. "Remember. Don't tell anyone!"

Bredin nodded and Kensie went back to watching.

The horse appeared, led by Chase Tanner. The stallion was a huge, powerful liver chestnut about 17 hands tall. The glossy coat rippled over solid, agile muscles. Its neck curved in a graceful arch, holding the shapely head high. It pranced and curvetted, fighting the horsemaster's hold, striking and kicking in all directions. It snorted and neighed, bellowing challenges to all. Bredin's eyes widened; low-born, he had never ridden a horse, but even he could see that the beast was exceptional.

"Gods! He is beautiful!" Kensie said.

His voice was loud enough that Bredin worried those outside might hear. Bredin glanced at the young lord. Kensie was staring raptly at the horse, his eyes drinking in every line and muscle. For the first time that Bredin could remember, Kensie was not sneering or looking angry. Instead, the older boy's face was almost beatific.

"What a magnificent animal!" Kensie exclaimed, lost in admiration. Fortunately, the ruckus created by the stallion covered the sound. Anxiously, Bredin touched the older boy's shoulder; when Kensie glanced at him, Bredin put a finger to his lips.

Remembering where they were, Kensie flushed slightly before looking back at the stallion, which was now being brought unwillingly into the yard.

It continued to fight Chase Tanner, who countered its every move and bent the stallion to his will. As he watched, Bredin noticed something: Instead of opposing the horse or hitting it, the horsemaster would turn its head or apply pressure on its neck or side. When the horse tried to strike or kick, Master Tanner would push it in a way that took the horse off balance and cause it to lower the offending leg. If it tried to bite, Chase Tanner would bluff with an open hand. Not once did the horsemaster actually hit the stallion.

Once the horse was in the yard, Chase Tanner turned it so Enro could measure it. By chance, the horse was lined up beside the shed where Kensie and Bredin hid. No one dared come between the stallion and the wall of the shed, so the boys had a clear view as it continued to dance restively in front of them.

Kensie began to croon softly to the horse. "You are so beautiful. You are wonderful. Easy boy, easy. You are perfect. I'm going to call you 'Blood'. Easy boy, easy Blood." The stallion twisted an ear towards the shed. Bredin glanced again at Kensie, who stared adoringly at the horse.

As though soothed by Kensie's voice, the stallion settled and stood quietly.

Taking the opportunity, Enro eased a cheesecloth over the muscular back. The horse twitched slightly, but did not move.

While Enro smoothed the cloth and flattened it, Kensie continued to whisper soft entreaties towards the horse, who kept an ear cocked in his direction.

Once satisfied that the cheesecloth was evenly over the horse's back, Enro carefully poured plaster onto the cloth to make a mold of the horse's back.

The horse stood quietly while the plaster set, only flicking its ear back towards the shed occasionally. Kensie was barely mouthing his praise at the horse, never looking away.

Count Wyeth broke the silence. "I have never seen this beast this quiet since Lord Askevron's agent brought him here."

Chase Tanner murmured agreement, though his eyes flicked towards the shed momentarily.

In a few sunwidths, the plaster had hardened enough for Enro to lift it off the stallion's back. Enro checked the inside and, once satisfied, placed it over a saddle rack padded with old rags to retain the shape. One of Count Wyeth's grooms quickly brushed the horse's back.

Once satisfied that the mold was supported and would not sag where he had left it, Enro took several measurements of the girth and barrel, checking each one twice before writing it down. He handed the notes to Fil Crocker, before repeating them one more time, this time calling them back for the journeyman to check off.

Done, he turned back to Count Wyeth. "Thank you, Milord. I have the measurements I need. I must say he was much better behaved than you warned. That took half the time I expected. I think you have bought a fine horse for your son."

"Thank you, Master Kase. I certainly hope he is worth what Lord Askevron extorted from me." The Count appeared jovial. He looked at the horsemaster. "I suppose we should take him back now."

As Chase Tanner began to lead the horse away, Kensie shifted, knocking over a bucket. It clattered noisily on the floor of the shed. The horse spooked and spun, sending Asen sprawling.

"Who is in there?" Enro demanded.

Scowling, Kensie looked at Bredin and tossed his head at the door. The older boy moved to the hiding place behind the barrel.

Bredin sighed in resignation. His choice was a beating from his father or a beating from both his father and from Kensie if he unmasked the latter. "It's me, dad." He said.

"Bredin? Come out here, you little bastard." Enro's voice was angry.

Bredin opened the door and went outside. Enro grabbed the boy, shaking him. "Why were you in there?" Enro demanded.

"I was looking at the horse?" Bredin said. Wincing as the pain in his stiff muscles as his father shook him.

"You almost got your older brother killed. Haven't you done enough?" Enro raised his hand to swat Bredin.

"I-I'm OK, dad." Asen said, getting to his feet and brushing his clothes. "It was nothing."

"Master Kase, please." Count Wyeth said. "The boy meant no harm and it's not a crime to want to see a good horse."

Enro lowered his arm and relaxed his grip.

"Besides," Chase Tanner put in, "the horse was listening to something in the shed. Something seemed to calm him down. Maybe the boy's presence reassured him somehow. " As Bredin stared at him, the horsemaster's eyes flicked meaningfully from Bredin to the shed and back before he twitched his eyebrows slightly upwards. "I notice the stud is still quiet, in fact." The stallion, recovered from its spook, was indeed still standing quietly; its ears were still pointed at the shed.

Enro released Bredin. "You can thank Count Wyeth and Master Tanner for sparing you a beating." He said.

Bredin, grateful for escaping a beating, bowed to both. "Thank you, Count Poldara. Thank you, Master Chase. I am sorry if I bothered your horse. He is very beautiful." Bredin's thanks were very sincere.

Their business done, the Count and his retinue left to return to Bransat House, leaving Chase Tanner to take the horse back to Sir Mittel's. Enro and the rest followed them back to the street. As soon as they reached the street, the stallion resumed its fight against Chase Tanner. "Maybe the boy should come with us." The horsemaster suggested.

Enro ordered his son to follow the horse back to Sir Faro Mittel's stable. Bredin's presence did nothing to calm the horse, which continued to fight the whole way back. Bredin hoped that Kensie would find his way out unobserved.

Two candlemarks later, Bredin limped back home from Sir Mittel's manor. As he passed the spot where Kensie had stopped him earlier, he glanced between the buildings. Kensie was waiting there, a broad grin on his face. To Bredin, the open, friendly look on Kensie's face made the latter almost unrecognizable. Kensie waved Bredin over.

Bredin sighed and limped over once more.

Kensie, still grinning, said. "Thank you, boy." He placed two shillings in Bredin's hand.

Bredin gaped, looking up at the older boy. He barely remembered to say "Thank you, my lord" before Kensie turned and walked away.

"I think I'm in love." Kensie said as he walked off.

Bredin stared at Kensie's retreating back until the young lord disappeared around a corner.

He looked down at his hand. Two silver coins shone back up at him. Two shillings! The most he had ever had was three groats, not even a whole penny. Here were two shillings! To Bredin, it was an unbelievable fortune, wealth beyond imagining.

Bredin looked back the way Kensie had gone. His thoughts hardened.

Bredin limped down to the river and threw the coins as far out as he could.


	5. Chapter 5

The Angry Boy Chapter 5

After Chase Tanner returned the stallion to Sir Mittel's manor, he stopped by the Temple of the Iron God. Master Tanner was a bastard half-brother of Faro Mittel. His father had given him a gentleman's education, but there was no inheritance for bastards. Aside from showing early skill with horses, Chase had had no craft or trade.

Seeking a vocation, Chase had spent several years as an acolyte in the temple. Father Milo, the Patriarch at the time, had seen that the young man was not suited to the monastic life. Father Milo had noted Chase's skill and obsession with horses. The monks were foot-soldiers, not cavalry; not even the Masters rode. There was no place for a rider in the Order. Through his contacts at Bransat House, Father Milo had arranged for Chase Tanner to be taken on as assistant to Count Wyeth's horsemaster at the time.

Chase had quickly proved himself as a horse-trainer and riding instructor and had taken the old horsemaster's place when the latter was killed in a bad fall.

He had kept in touch with the monks of the Temple and worshipped there himself. Father Toma had been one of his early instructors; the two remained good friends. Chase often came by to talk with the priest, which helped Father Toma keep abreast of the goings-on at Bransat House. Chase also came to the priest for guidance when troubled.

Today, Chase Tanner was a very troubled man.

The two sat in Father Toma's office.

"I don't like it, Toma. That horse is far too much horse for the boy. He could kill Kensie."

No horseman, Toma raised an eyebrow. "But as a noble and heir, he has been riding since the time he could sit upright. Surely he can ride well by now."

"He could be an excellent rider. He has a good seat and good hands. But he has a foul temper and lacks patience. He has never actually trained a horse. He is not yet ready for a war stallion. He lacks the experience."

Toma smiled. "I recall a twelve year old acolyte who could ride a wild horse through fire." Father Toma referred to an incident when the young Chase had 'borrowed' a horse from his father's stable and jumped it over the midsummer fire. The horse was notorious for its vicious temper and skittishness. It had injured three of Dasan Mittel's stable hands. Only its near-flawless conformation had prevented Dasan Mittel from gelding the horse.

"I was a damn fool to get on that horse." Chase retorted. "I got away with that stunt through more luck than skill. Besides, Ornias and I seemed to get along for some reason."

"I'd suggest that there was some level of skill involved." Toma said.

"I'll not play modest." Chase said. "Yes, I was a better rider than most grown men and I had spent more time in the saddle than on my feet. But it was still a foolhardy stunt. Ornias was a difficult horse at the best of times.

"Not to put too fine a point on it, I was a much better rider at twelve than Kensie is now. And I knew I couldn't beat a horse into submission – at least not a war stallion. And I was still learning right up to the time old Kendal Wilkes came off that mare.

"Kensie thinks he knows all about riding. He barely listens to me in the lessons any more, except when he gets himself thrown. Then he will listen for a lesson or two, but soon goes back to thinking he knows it all. He lacks the experience to deal with a stallion and he doesn't realize it.

"He's demanded that I let him ride Eagle. I have only thwarted that by pointing out that Eagle belongs to me, not his father.

"Now that he's got that new stud, I won't be able to keep him off it. If I refuse to teach him on it, I'll be replaced by someone who will."

Chase Tanner sighed. "I don't want the boy's death on my conscience. That horse will kill him or at least hurt him badly unless there is a special miracle from the gods."

"'Miracles begin within ourselves.'" Father Toma quoted.

"The miracle will have to come from Kensie." Chase retorted. "I have run out of ideas."

"Have you spoken to Count Wyeth?" Toma asked.

"Repeatedly. But he is blind to the faults in his son. Or thinks they are just passing phases." Chase Tanner sighed again. "I am thinking of resigning."

"Walking away won't save the boy."

"But whatever happens won't happen on my watch." The horsemaster said.

"Are you willing to let a disaster happen when there is the slightest possibility you could prevent it?" The priest asked.

Chase made a sour face. "You do ask nasty questions, don't you? The trouble is I have no idea how to prevent it."

"'If you do not try, you cannot succeed.'" Father Toma quoted another proverb of the Iron God.

"'When the house is burning, it does no good to throw yourself into the fire.'" Chase retorted.

The priest laughed. "My friend, I cannot say what is best here. I think there is a chance you can help the boy if you stay. On the other hand, if your fears come to pass, you may find the blame laid on you for what you hoped to prevent. Those who warn of danger are often labelled as the cause of what they foretold."

Chase Tanner sat still for a moment. "Thank you, my friend. You have just summarized my dilemma. I have a few days to think it over."

"Maybe the boy will decide he doesn't want the horse." Toma suggested.

"No chance of that." The horsemaster said. "I think the boy saw the horse this afternoon." He described how he had brought the horse to the saddlery and the discovery of Bredin hiding in the shed.

"I think there was another person in the shed. I could hear a soft voice coming from inside. I couldn't make out the words, but I think it was Kensie from the sound of the voice. Whoever it was, it was like a lover wooing his beloved. The horse was aware of the sound. He kept an ear pointed at it the whole time he stood there.

"After Bredin came out, the horse kept watching the shed, not Bredin. So, whoever was with Bredin was still in there.

"I noticed something else, too. When his father asked why he was in the shed, Bredin said he was watching the horse. He didn't say he wanted to watch the horse, just that he was watching it. Enro didn't catch the evasion."

Toma smiled to himself. It looked like Bredin had gotten something out of their talks. "I hope Bredin didn't suffer too much at his father's hands."

"Nah, Count Wyeth talked him out of beating the boy and I got Enro to have the boy come to Faro's barn with me so Enro would have time to cool down." Chase said. "My point, though, was that I am sure that Kensie has seen the horse and, from the tones I was hearing, he is as infatuated with the horse as any swain was ever in thrall to a maid."

Toma mused on this for a moment. The horsemaster's story jibed with what Brother Manas had said a candlemark earlier about the boys being seen together sneaking through the alley behind the street. Father Toma had dismissed the story at the time, thinking it improbable that Kensie would ever associate with Bredin. In light of his friend's information, the report began to make sense.

"I will question Bredin tomorrow when he comes to school. I'll let you know what I find out."

The two rose and shook hands. "If you decide to go, I'll write to Grandmaster Sanat in Haven. He will have some contacts among the noble houses there and could help you find another place." Father Toma said.

Chase Tanner thanked his friend and left. Father Toma's offer of a letter gave him an idea. He would put his concerns in a letter to Count Wyeth. If worst came to worst, at least there would be a record of him warning of the danger.

The next morning, Father Toma called Bredin to his office. He handed Bredin a bottle of liniment. "This will help your muscles. Rub it in morning and evening. It will sting a little as you apply it, then you will feel warm. It should stop the aching in a sennight."

Bredin thanked the priest and turned to go. "Sit down, Bredin." Father Toma ordered.

Bredin stared at the priest in alarm. He wondered what Father Toma wanted now.

"I said 'sit down', Bredin." Father Toma repeated firmly. Bredin gulped and sat.

"Who was hiding with you in your father's shed yesterday, Bredin? Who was with you when you were looking at the horse?"

"I was just looking at the horse, Father." The boy said.

Father Toma repressed a smile at the evasion. The boy had learned something, after all. Trying not to sound angry, Toma said "I know you were looking at the horse, Bredin. What I want to know is who was with you."

Bredin tried once more. "None of my friends were with me, sir."

Father Toma laughed outright. "Bredin, I am sure that neither Rhys nor Tagan are interested enough in horses to sneak into your father's shed. Nor are you. For that matter, you could have seen the horse just as easily if you stood in the yard. You didn't have to hide."

"My father banned me from his shop." Bredin said, desperately trying to convince the priest. At least Father Toma did not sound angry.

"The yard is not the shop, Bredin." Father Toma pointed out. "What I want to know is who was with you in the shed."

"There was no one else." Bredin said.

The priest sighed. "Bredin, that is the first outright lie you have told me. You are not a boy who is smitten by horses. Even if you were, you did not have to hide in the shed. The only reason for you to hide in the shed was if you were hiding someone else, someone who wasn't supposed to be there. Who was it?"

"I won't tell you. I promised not to tell." Bredin said. He might be punished by the priest, but it couldn't be worse than the beating Kensie would give him.

Father Toma leaned back in his chair. He stared at Bredin, who fidgeted under his gaze. "I see." Father Toma said. "Well, I won't ask you to break your promise." The boy relaxed visibly as Father Toma said it. Toma forebore to point out that Bredin had just revealed that there had been someone with him.

"However, I must warn you, Bredin. Brother Manas saw you yesterday in the alleyway with a, shall we say, rather unlikely companion. It is not wise to involve yourself in the affairs of the nobles. They will put you in danger, then abandon you when you are no further use." Father Toma knew that there were honorable men among the nobility, but the only nobles in Bredin's world were not in that category.

"I want nothing to do with the highborn, sir." Bredin said it so fervently that Father Toma had to smile.

He rose and motioned Bredin to stand up. Father Toma escorted Bredin back to his class. As he left the boy, he said "That liniment should ease your muscle soreness in a sennight. See Brother Carnot if you don't feel better by then."

Bredin realized that the priest was giving a 'reason' for summoning Bredin to his office so no one would ask about the other matter. "Thank you, Father, I will do that." He smiled and winked at the priest.

Father Toma returned to his office, now certain that Kensie had indeed been the other person hiding in the shed. The problem was that Kensie was no master conspirator, no matter how clever he thought himself. Word would get out, somehow, and Kensie would assume that Bredin had told the secret, never thinking that there were a thousand other ways that people would find out. Kensie was probably unaware that his own father would spy on him as was common among the nobility.

Chase Tanner had figured out what had happened. Others besides Brother Manas had undoubtedly seen the two in the alley, would hear the tale of what happened at Enro's shop and put the two together. Probably some of Kensie's own coterie would figure out or know where he had gone; Father Toma could not imagine that group of bubbleheads keeping a secret for long.

As it happened, the last of these was becoming plain to Kensie at that very moment.

"So, how do you like your new horse?" Wallis Mittel asked Kensie as he rode out with his coterie. The group were headed for a picnic by a waterfall.

Kensie turned and gaped at his friend. "Who told you that I saw my new horse?" He demanded. "If that peasant brat babbled, I'll have his hide."

Wallis snorted. "I don't need a peasant to tell me which way the wind blows, cousin. You left us all very abruptly after luncheon yesterday. You said you wanted to be alone. Not a candlemark later, Naril sees you slip between two buildings along Temple Street. A sunwidth after that, someone calls that Bredin brat over to that spot. Later, that same brat pops out of a shed where he was 'watching the horsie.' We both know that brat doesn't know a hoof from a hackamore, so why does he want to see a horse?

"As for you, you've been worrying about what kind of horse your father is getting you ever since you found out that he was buying it. After you come back yesterday, you are suddenly saying that you can't wait to ride the horse. The man who wants a good horse becomes the man who wants to ride a particular horse only after he has seen the horse." Wallis smiled at his own cleverness.

For his part, Kensie was furious. "For Kerenos' sake, don't tell anyone! Father will be furious if he finds out I saw the horse."

Wallis shrugged. "I won't tell. But I'm not the only person who can follow footprints. Even if the brat doesn't talk, everyone is going to know you were there in a day or two."

At that point, Kensie realized that he had handed Bredin a means to blackmail him. Worse, Bredin's hot temper might make the younger boy blurt out the story. Kensie would have to take pains to avoid Bredin until after his investiture.

Meanwhile, Kensie summoned his coterie and begged them to tell no one especially not his father. He threatened retaliation if any broke the silence.

Kensie prayed that word would not reach his father; his prayers were in vain. Count Wyeth knew by that evening. The Count said nothing to his son, preferring to let Kensie live in the agony of suspense rather than the relief of certainty. In time, he would let the boy know that he had known. Hopefully, Kensie would something of the nature of secrets and conspiracy while he fretted about being discovered.

As Kensie avoided Bredin, the latter had one less problem for the next ten days. His father's intransience and his mother's impatience made the days tedious and slow. With Father Toma's liniment, Bredin's muscles began to loosen slowly over the next few days. He could walk easier and faster, but the increasing freedom of movement gave him no joy.

To pass the time, Bredin sought refuge in his books and began following the monks in their afternoon drills. Father Toma noted this; he formed the seeds of a plan.


	6. Chapter 6

The Angry Boy Chapter 6

The investiture of Kensie Poldara as Baron of Bransat took place on the seventh day of Corn Moon, Kensie's twelfth birthday. The event was attended by all of Count Poldara's vassal lords and numerous nobles from neighboring fiefs. Many of the assembled nobles personally disapproved of the premature elevation of the boy, but held their peace in the interest of smooth relations.

Despite his new title, Kensie would not have a vote in the Assembly of Nobles until he reached his majority at the age of eighteen. Exceptions could be made for those under eighteen who distinguished themselves through deeds of valor or other conspicuous service to Valdemar. The last such exception had been in the reign of King Roald nearly fifty years ago.

The ceremony was conducted in the Temple of the Twain, which was the largest of Bransat's temples. Other than the nobles, only the Priests of the local temples and the Reeve, one Eouard Dane, and Council of Bransat were permitted to witness the actual investiture. The Reeve and Council were present only because they performed the acts of obeisance on behalf of the town and barony; otherwise, they were ignored.

The rest of the commoners waited in the town square before the temple. Once the new Baron emerged from the temple, they knelt as required while Count Wyeth formally proclaimed his son and heir. Bredin knelt with his family, though he gritted his teeth as he did so.

The Ashkevron war stallion was brought forward and given to Kensie as his birthday gift from his father. The magnificent liver chestnut's coat was polished to a gloss that highlighted the taut muscles. It curvetted and pranced on strong, clean legs. Even to those who were not horsemen, it was obvious that the beast was very special. As it had done the day Master Tanner had brought it to Enro's shop, it fought the horsemaster and attempted to kick and strike in all directions.

The young lord feigned surprise at the gift – as though he had not spied when it was brought to Enro's shop – and gave effusive thanks to his father.

Next, Enro came forward with the saddle, which was formally the gift of Kensie's mother. Enro had finished the saddle barely candlemarks before the ceremony, hammering in the last silver bosses as the sun rose. The soft leather of the seat blended seamlessly with the tougher leather of the skirt and flaps. The stitching was perfectly even, following the lines of the joins invisibly. Enro's tooling incorporated the hart and oak leaf sigil of Poldara with the wheat sheaf symbol of the Barony of Bransat. The decoration emphasized the high quality of the leather, which was stained to an even dark brown, matching the stallion's coat.

Again, Kensie made a show of surprise and pleasure, this time thanking his mother with equally effusive thanks.

Kensie's brothers and sisters presented him with a saddle cloth and barding in the red and silver colors of Poldara. The barding was made of silk and had been ordered from the renowned Chitward cloth merchants in Haven.

The horse fidgeted while it was saddled despite being tightly restrained by Chase Tanner, the Count's horsemaster. When Kensie came forward and stood at the beast's head, it quieted and relaxed under his hands.

With the saddling and bridling were complete and the barding was fastened in place, the noble guests came forward to congratulate the new Baron. Kensie basked in the praise that the noble guests lavished on him. He swelled with pride as they expressed their admiration for the stallion. In keeping with the occasion, both the praise and the admiration were fulsome, though those familiar with Court politics might suspect that the admiration for the horse was more genuine that the praise for its new owner.

Once the guests had made their compliments, the new Baron of Bransat publicly named the stallion "Blood" before he mounted the horse – with a leg up from the horsemaster – to lead the procession through town and back to the manor house, where the noble guests would be feasted and entertained. Count Wyeth had declared the day a holiday for the town, but had not laid on any food or entertainment for the commoners.

The stallion stood quietly as Kensie saluted his father and mother. Kensie took the reins in his left hand and turned the horse in a neat pirouette while he waved to the assembled nobles and commoners, who cheered his bravura display. The horsemaster cringed inwardly, fearing the beast would spook or bolt or otherwise fight its rider. Instead, it stopped squarely facing Count Wyeth and Lady Lora.

Kensie bowed deeply to his parents from the saddle. "Thank you to my honorable mother and father on this glorious day." He said.

Count Wyeth grinned back at his son. "Today is your day, my son. Lead on!" He gestured in the direction of the street leading to the manor house.

Kensie bowed once more to his father and mother before pivoting the horse forward. Blood went into a slow, elevated trot as Kensie led the procession to Bransat House.

As soon as the procession had passed, the townspeople dispersed to enjoy the 'holiday'. Most of the shopkeepers and merchants would have preferred to return to their regular occupations, but did not wish to earn the Count's disapproval if he heard that they had done so.

The town returned to its regular routine the next day. The nobles gathered at the manor would stay for several more days before taking their leave at the appropriate time: Too prompt a departure would signal disrespect to the Count and his son; lingering too long would seem obsequious. Several of the nobles came into the town for either idle amusement or to make casual purchases.

For Enro Kase, the commission for the saddle provided the recognition he desired. A dozen nobles came into his shop to have saddles made for themselves. Enro took careful measurements of his customers and their horses to ensure a proper fit. By the third day after the investiture, Enro was in high good humor over the flood of commissions.

Enro's self-satisfaction reached a peak when Count Wyeth came to the shop to commission two saddles for himself – one for his destrier and one for his palfrey.

Father Toma, who had watched Enro's swelling pride, decided to put his plan concerning Bredin into action. He entered Enro's shop just as the Count left.

After a brief exchange of passing courtesies with the Count, Father Toma turned to Enro. Looking grave, he said "I am glad to see your craft and skill is getting the recognition it deserves, Master Kase. You will obviously be hard pressed to deal with such a demand for your work."

"Aye, Father." Enro replied. He was still grinning broadly. "There is much to do, but I will see it done. What brings you here?"

"Only my regular visit to the parents of the students at the Temple school." Father Toma prevaricated only slightly; he did visit all of the parents regularly and the Kase household was long overdue for a call. "I've been remiss in visiting you. Asen has done well; he should be ready for his journeyman work with you when he finishes with the school next year." In the corner where Asen worked, Father Toma saw the eldest of Enro's sons smile and puff himself as he cut leather for his father, pretending he was not listening.

"Your other two boys have made good progress, too. Bredin in particular is far in advance of his yearmates in his studies. He could be a real scholar. However, with so much to do, I am sure you will need his skills in your shop."

Enro's face darkened as Father Toma spoke. At the last, his grin turned to an ugly grimace. "I swore I would never allow that little demon in my shop again. He can seek an apprenticeship somewhere else - if anyone will have him, that is."

Though inwardly dismayed at how a father could be so dismissive of his own son, Father Toma allowed none of his distaste to show. Instead he nodded gravely and said "That is my concern, Master Kase. With his quick temper, it will be difficult for him to find a proper apprenticeship. He needs a firm hand and steady trade to make his way in the world."

Enro eyed the priest suspiciously. "I do not think that is a concern of yours, sir." His voice was cold.

"I care about all my students, Master Kase. As his father, I would assume you care about all your sons."

Enro Kase flushed, but stared back at the priest. "I cared for him and he broke his brother's arm, nearly costing me an important position to boot. I'll not cast him out to starve, but I will not bring him into my shop again."

"Surely you do not want to send Bredin into the world without a trade?" Father Toma said.

Enro twisted his face. "I will think about that when I have time. For now, I have a great deal of business to attend to. I will thank you to go about your business and leave me to mine."

Father Toma ignored the implied dismissal. "Surely you do not want him to be idle, Master Enro. Is there not some task you can set for him, some purpose you can find? Bransat has too many idle youngsters already."

Enro's anger rose. "I said I will not have him back in my shop. That will not change, priest. If you are so concerned, make a monk out of him. Then he won't be idle!"

Father Toma had hoped Enro would offer the boy to the Temple, but he wanted Enro to put himself in a position from which he would not back down. From experience, he knew that, if Enro declared something flatly, the saddler's pride and stubbornness would prevent him from changing his mind at a later time.

"We do not take acolytes until they reach their twelfth birthday, Master Kase, so that is not possible. When he reaches that age, I would be pleased to consider him. For now, he needs proper training and supervision." The priest adopted a prim tone calculated to enrage Enro.

Enro snarled. "I've seen boys younger than twelve at your drills."

"A few merchants have their sons do extra training, but they take no vows and do not stay in the cloister." Father Toma did not add that the boys were generally the younger sons who did not fit in with their parents' trade or for whom there was no inheritance. Each amicus, as such boys were called, was there because his parents wanted their extra children to get some training, either in arms or scholarship that would allow the boy to find his own way.

"So take Bredin, then. I'll not be needing him." Enro stared at the priest. "Lessen you want a fee. I'll not pay for it."

"Please Master Enro. Consider your son. I know he is an able leatherworker and wants to follow you in your trade…"

"I said you can have him!" Enro shouted. "Take him if you want him, but he has no place in my shop! I'll not pay you, but you can take him."

As Enro raged at Father Toma, the latter could hear the sound of someone running off. A boy, from the lightness of the steps. Inwardly, Father Toma prayed that Bredin had not been listening at the door.

Looking grave, Father Toma sighed. "If that is your wish, I will see that Bredin gets extra training. There is no fee. Our Order is supported by the work of our monks."

"Just see that he does not come into my shop." Enro said. "Now, I must get back to work. Good day, Father."

"Good day, Master Enro." The priest bowed himself out.

Emerging into the street, Toma spotted one of Bredin's friends. "Tagan, have you seen Bredin?" He asked.

Tag nodded and pointed down the street in the direction of the High Road. "He went running that way, towards the river, Father."

The priest thanked Tag and walked off the way Bredin had gone.

Bredin ran until he reached his reading spot by the river. He sat on the log and cried for a quarter candlemark until he heard the noise of someone coming. From the sound, it was Kensie and his friends. Bredin hid himself in the bushes by the road.

Bredin watched as Kensie and his friend trotted by.

Kensie rode Blood; the stallion danced lightly under him. The young lord stroked the horse's neck and praised it as it moved willingly forward. Kensie circled around, inviting his coterie to praise the stud. The others did so dutifully, though Bredin thought they looked a little bored with the subject.

As they moved by and continued down the road, Bredin wished that the stallion would throw its rider. The beast, however, appeared happy and did no such thing.

No sooner had the young nobles disappeared than Father Toma marched briskly around the bend to the spot where Bredin usually sat. Bredin remained in his hiding place.

Father Toma stood by the log for a moment, looking up and down the road. He bent and examined the dirt at his feet. With his finger, he traced out a small footprint pointed towards the road. The priest stared in the direction Kensie and his group had gone. Bredin would not have wanted to meet his tormentor; the boy would have hidden.

As the priest looked towards the woods, the chiming of a Companion's hooves drew his attention. A Herald and Companion appeared from the direction of Poldara.

Herald Leo was in high good humor. He and his Companion Jaracin were on their way home from their circuit, which had gone exceptionally well. Eager to get back to the Collegium, Leo and Jaracin agreed they would press on tonight. They would reach the Collegium well before midnight, but probably after the other Heralds had gone to bed. To pass the time, Leo and Jaracin were playing the riddle game.

_::What sings without a voice, races without legs and soars without wings?:: _Jaracin said. _::Too easy, Chosen. A heart.::_

Before Jaracin could ask her riddle, Leo spotted Father Toma looking anxiously at him. Jaracin stopped in an easy halt. "How may I help you, Father?" Leo asked.

_::I think what the priest wants is hiding over there.:: _Jaracin nodded her head in the direction of the bush hiding Bredin.

As Father Toma opened his mouth, Leo held up his hand. "I think Jaracin has found what you seek."

The Companion paced over to where Bredin hid. Seeing he was caught, Bredin sighed and stood.

Leo saw the tracks of tears on the boy's face. "Come down, lad. Tell me what is wrong.'

Bredin jumped down to the road. Jaracin nuzzled him, then put her head over his shoulder, 'hugging' Bredin to her chest.

Bredin wrapped his arms around the Companion and wept into her neck. "Papa hates me. He wants to send me away." Bredin said through his tears.

Leo sighed. It looked like he would be getting home later than he thought. The Herald dismounted. Taking Bredin by the hand, he led him back over to the log. Sitting Bredin down, Leo sat beside him. Father Toma sat on Bredin's other side. Jaracin stood behind them.

"Your father does not hate you, Bredin." Father Toma began. "But he is a proud and angry man. His pride makes him hold on to his anger when others would have forgotten it."

Patiently, Leo questioned the boy and the priest for half a candlemark. Jaracin added her own observations privately to her Chosen.

Several travellers passed on the road. They looked at the odd foursome, but kept on their own way.

At the end, Leo sat silently for a moment. "Bredin, you cannot run away from your troubles." He said. "I do not know if your father will ever relent, but trying to run away will only make things worse.

"The streets near Exile's Gate are filled with children who have fled their homes. Many of them fled homes far worse than yours. I can tell you that what they fled is nothing compared to the misery they found."

Something about the way Leo said the last made Bredin shudder.

"Father Toma is offering you a chance to study other things. Those studies could open paths for you that go far beyond your father's shop and Bransat. They could take you to Haven and to the farthest corners of Valdemar. They could take you to other countries and to fame and fortune. You could be a scholar, a soldier, a merchant or a major-domo of a great estate." Leo did not mention Jaracin's suspicions, which were far too tentative at Bredin's early age.

Bredin gulped and nodded. He stared at Leo, who saw in the boy's eyes what he really wanted. Leo said nothing, not wanting to raise hopes that might not be fulfilled. That lay with the Companions.

"Come home with me." Father Toma said. "If you have the courage to face what comes, I will be there to help you. I think we can see this through."

He stood and offered his hand to Bredin, who took it. The two said goodbye to Herald Leo. Bredin also bowed and said goodbye to Jaracin, who blew a soft breath in his face.

Leo and Jaracin watched the two walk away. As Leo turned to mount, he heard the boy's voice drift back. "Do you think I could be a Herald, Father?"

"Maybe you can, little brother." Leo said too softly for the boy to hear. "But only gods and white horses know the answer." Jaracin whipped her head around and nipped Leo in the buttock.

Leo laughed and swung up on his Companion's back. "Come on, white nag. Think we can still make the Collegium before midnight?"

Jaracin bucked lightly, then leaped into a gallop. _::What has wings but never flies, stories but never tells and feet but never walks?:: _She asked as they rounded the bend.


	7. Chapter 7

The Angry Boy Chapter 7

That evening, after Bredin had returned home and the monks had finished their supper, Chase Tanner stopped by the Temple to visit.

"I do not understand it, Toma, but I think I have seen a miracle." At Toma's raised eyebrows, the horsemaster went on. "Kensie and Blood are doing fantastically well together. You would think Kensie had ridden that horse for a dozen years, the way they move together.

"The two of them seem to adore one another. Kensie has even taken over the grooming of the horse. He spends candlemarks brushing every speck of dust off it and sweet-talks it constantly.

"The boy sits the horse perfectly and it responds to his every aid without the slightest resistance. When I praised Kensie for his improved riding, he looked at me and said 'Blood likes it that way'.

"Blood is just as smitten with his rider. He stands in the corner of his paddock watching for Kensie when the boy is due for his daily lesson. When he hears Kensie's footsteps, he bellows loudly. When the boy goes away, he hangs his head and looks miserable.

"I have never seen anything like it." The horsemaster shook his head in wonder.

"I thought horses and riders often became attached to one another." Father Toma said.

"Oh, that happens. Not as often as in fiction, but it happens," Chase said, "On the rare occasions when it does, not in less than a sennight. It usually takes years. Even then, I don't think I've ever seen a pair become so attached as Kensie and that horse."

"Well, I guess you won't be looking for a new position, then." Toma teased his friend.

"No." Chase agreed. "But the Count has made a point of saying I was needlessly worried.'

"Were your fears groundless?" Toms asked.

"No, they weren't." Chase looked grim. "Kensie got on his old palfrey – we had to get out of sight of Blood, by the way, the stallion screamed bloody murder when he saw Kensie on the other horse and nearly kicked the fence down.

"Kensie got on the horse and all his impatience and foul temper came out again. He got angry at every mistake. The only thing I will say is that his seat and aids have suddenly improved, as if the new stud has taught him better technical skills, but his attitude hasn't changed.

"It is strange how Kensie is suddenly so perfect on the new horse, but his old bad habits are still there, waiting to come out when he rides any other."

Chase looked at his friend as though seeking an explanation. "Don't ask me, you're the horseman." was all Toma said "Maybe the gods intended the two for each other."

"Maybe." Chase agreed. "I suppose I should just be grateful that the horse hasn't killed Kensie."

He smiled. "There is another problem, though."

"Oh?" Toma prompted.

"Kensie has become a horse bore. He speaks of almost nothing but that stallion, inflicting endless horse talk on anyone who will listen."

"Not that you were ever like that." Toma said drily.

"No doubt I was guilty of it." Chase admitted. "But it is still fun to watch the Popinjays endure the bragging and preening Kensie does. He still ranks them, so they have to pretend to be as enthused about his horse as he is.

"Mind you, if that horse were mine, I'd be nearly as proud of it as Kensie. If it would behave as well for me, that is."

Toma looked at his friend in surprise. "I thought you could ride just about anything." He said.

"I could ride it." The horsemaster said. "But there would be a long battle for dominance. That horse is a one man horse. Kensie is his man. With anyone else, it is just as nasty as ever. It wouldn't let the grooms near it until Kensie coaxed it into accepting them; now it accepts the grooms and stableboys but makes it plain that they are lesser beings. Kensie is the stallion's god."

The two of them talked a while longer. Toma mentioned a letter that came to him from Father Sanat, Chief Priest of the main temple in Haven and Grandmaster of the Order. There were rumors that Karse was hiring mercenaries for an attack on Valdemar.

Chase, who had met some mercenaries when he had gone to Rethwellan to look at some Shin'a'in horses, dismissed the rumor. "The mercs hate Karse and won't do business with them, not even on a cash up front basis. They've been stiffed by the Sunpriests too often."

As the bell sounded for evening prayer, Chase left his friend, heading back to the manor.

Two sennights after he had met Bredin, Herald Leo was back in Bransat, bearing news that confirmed the rumors that Father Sanat had passed to Father Toma.

Rather than entering Bransat at the usual sedate walk, Leo and Jaracin cantered into the town square. Jaracin was in her full formal tack, her bridle bells ringing as she rushed along. Leo called out "Everyone assemble in the town square" repeatedly as he came down the High Street.

The commotion drew the Reeve out of the town hall. Eouard Dane sent runners to all the other Councillors and to the Temples. Wallis Mittel, who was on his way from his father's manor to Bransat House, spurred his horse and galloped to the Count's residence with the summons.

Instead of dismounting as Heralds usually did, Leo stayed on Jaracin's back while people poured into the street. Leo accepted a cup of ale as he watched the crowd assemble. This was Leo's third stop of the day. He had at least two more before he rested for the night.

As he waited, Leo spotted Bredin in the crowd. He called Bredin forward and talked casually for a few moments, confirming that the boy was doing well. He learned that Bredin would begin training at the Temple after his eighth birthday. Bredin's friends were impressed that a Herald called him over and spoke to him.

When Count Poldara and his family and retinue arrived, Leo told the Count to remain mounted at his side. Other, lesser, nobles were ranged beside the Count. The Reeve, Council and priesthood of Bransat stood on Leo's other side. The full authority of Poldara County was on display.

"People of Valdemar," Leo began his prepared speech, "I bring grave news. The nation of Karse has hired the services of a giant army of mercenaries known as the Tedrels. The Tedrels are merciless and without honor. Their purpose is to destroy Valdemar and take the land as their own.

"We are at war. At war with a nation of mercenaries that will not stop until we or they are destroyed. They are aided by our ancient enemy Karse, who will help the Tedrels to achieve their ends by any means possible.

"The survival of Valdemar is at stake. We will need you, the people of Valdemar, to provide us with soldiers and arms to fight this menace. We will need men and women to join the army. We will need the nobles and commons to unite against the invader. We will need the crops of your fields to feed the army. We will need the trades and craftsmen to arm and supply our soldiers.

"I speak in the name of King Sendar. Prepare yourselves."

Leo nodded at the Count. "Milord Poldara, as vassal of King Sendar, you are commanded to summon your regiments and to make yourself and your fief ready to defend the Realm."

The Count, still stunned by the news, could barely manage. "I hear my King's command and will obey."

Leo turned to the Reeve. "Sir, you and your fellow councillors are called upon to raise such levies, funds and supplies as you are able." Eouard Dane stammered his reply.

Looking at the priests, Leo said "The King commands me to remind you of the Priesthood that the law of Valdemar forbids you to pray for victory in battle. But as your own heart lies, he begs that you will give succor to all who suffer in this calamity." The priests nodded.

Leo turned back to the crowd. "I leave you now to carry this news to others." Jaracin cantered forward. The crowd parted to let them pass.

The crowd watched the Herald leave. As soon as he was out of sight, there was a general uproar.

Count Poldara regained his wits. He spurred his horse, causing it to rear, gaining the crowd's attention. He was glad he had chosen to ride his destrier, which was more impressive than his palfrey.

The Count called for silence, which he got eventually. "We have heard this grave news. Now we must act. For now, return to your homes and shops. Think of what you must do.

"I will meet with my peers and the Reeve and Council. Together we will plan for what is to come. In due time, I and your Reeve will ask for your help. We will come to you when we have worked out what we need. Go forth and be ready!"

The Count reared his horse once more. "For Valdemar!" He shouted, waving his fist in the air.

"For Valdemar!" The crowd roared back.

Kensie, who rode Blood, reared the stallion and shouted "For Valdemar!" with the rest of the audience. Kensie had never been prouder of his father.

For days after the announcement, no one could talk of anything else. However, plans for war take time and the Tedrels had not even come to the southern border yet. Next spring, the war would begin in earnest. For now, most things returned to normal.

Count Poldara returned to his County Seat in Poldara. There, he made plans for his own troops, bringing his regiment up to full enlistment and checking their arms and supplies. Training and drills became daily exercise. Unlike some of his peers, the Count took his duties seriously.

Chase Tanner was sent to find horses for the Count's mounted company and officers He was also charged with finding draft animals to pull supply wagons and heavy field equipment.

The Count's weaponsmaster, Hwyl Fian, was put to work training the newly enlisted, reducing the time Master Fian could spend with the Count's children

With the horsemaster absent and fewer lessons with the weaponsmaster, Kensie had more free time. Bored, the young lord alternated between Bransat and Poldara, losing himself in idle pursuits.

The Reeve and Council reviewed the tax rolls. War was expensive and they needed to be prepared to raise the sums the King would demand.

Father Toma reviewed the register of the Order, deciding who would go south to fight in the spring, who would be seconded to replace the road guards called up to fight and who would remain behind to train the novices, acolytes and amicuses. Father Milo would be called back to manage the Temple while Father Toma went south.


	8. Chapter 8

The Angry Boy Chapter 8

Amidst the bustle of the war preparations, Bredin entered the Temple of the Iron God as an amicus on the last day of Corn Moon, three days after his eighth birthday.

In the morning, he would study with the children of his own age as he had until now, although he would be required to meet a higher standard in his studies. He would be pushed beyond simple sums and calculations into geometry and problem solving. Where others of his age would be writing sentences and paragraphs, Bredin would be required to produce whole pages of written work. His friends would learn a few words of other languages; Bredin would be expected to become fluent.

Bredin spent four candlemarks each afternoon practicing and studying with the monks. Most of the time was in basic drills in unarmed combat and with practice weapons, practicing set patterns of moves until he performed them smoothly. For the monks, the primary drills were ritualized so that the responses were automatic. As a student moved through the stages, the drills became more and more complex. Only when the masters were satisfied a student had fully learned the exercises and patterns at one level was the student permitted to move up to the next.

Based on his thesis, Father Toma tested Bredin's aptitudes. Toma's tests indicated that while a sword or sabre would be Bredin's best weapon in battle, Bredin would do exceptionally well in unarmed combat or a knife fight.

As was standard for all new students, Bredin was set to work on the pells and taught the basic moves for sword work. However, the main focus of Bredin's education in fighting was unarmed combat. Father Toma decided that knife fighting would wait until Bredin learned to control his temper, though some of the moves of unarmed combat could also help when Bredin's hand held a knife.

The predictions of Toma's tests proved frighteningly accurate. Bredin learned the moves and counters of unarmed combat rapidly. Bredin advanced quickly through the levels, mastering each new move with casual ease. Part of it was simple natural ability. Another part, Father Toma was sure, was Bredin beginning his training at the age where children learn quickest. Bredin had nothing to unlearn.

Father Toma wondered if Bredin's coordination was the result of his learning to work designs in leather in Enro's shop or if Bredin's own natural skill had made the leatherwork easier.

No matter what the cause, Father Toma worried that Bredin's fast developing fighting skill might land the boy in yet more trouble. Before Sovran, Father Toma added training in meditation and self-awareness to the boy's study program.

The lessons in focus only accelerated Bredin's progress. Two days before Midwinter, Bredin tumbled Brother Saini, a third-year acolyte six years older than Bredin. Brother Saini was not the best of his year, but he was a head taller than Bredin and twice his weight. The result had surprised everyone except Brother Luca Ives, the unarmed combat instructor, and Father Toma.

The incident served to heighten Father Toma's fears that Bredin's temper would resurface and the boy would use his new skills inappropriately. It was only good fortune, the priest was sure, that Bredin had fewer tormentors since he entered the Temple. Kensie now spent most of his time in Poldara with his father. Bredin's brothers were called to work long hours at Enro's shop to help fill the demand for Enro's saddles. Bredin saw little of either Kensie or his brothers, who had little opportunity to tease him.

Father Toma was sure the fortunate circumstance could not last. On the day before midwinter, Father Toma called Bredin into his office once more.

Bredin entered and sat facing the priest across the desk.

"Bredin, what are you going to do when Kensie or Asen makes you angry?" Father Toma asked.

Bredin blinked, nonplussed by the question. "Um. You told me not to get mad at them." Bredin said at last.

"That is true, Bredin. I am glad you remember that. But that is not what I asked. What are you going to do when you do get angry?" Father Toma rephrased his question.

Bredin worked the question over for a few moments. "I will really try not to get mad." He said. Bredin was not attempting to be evasive; he knew what Father Toma was asking and knew that the priest did not want him to lash out. Bredin simply could not imagine planning what to do when he was angry.

Father Toma nodded. "That is good to hear, Bredin. We all try not to get angry. But all of us get mad sometimes. What do you think you will do when you get angry with Kensie or your brothers?"

"Um. I might try to fight them?" Bredin said tentatively.

"What do you think will happen then?" Father Toma asked.

Bredin looked worried. "Um. I'll get beaten?"

Seeing that Bredin was unaware of how extraordinarily skilled he was, Father Toma fought the urge to smile. Instead, he looked at the boy gravely. "Bredin, yesterday you were training against Brother Saini. What happened?"

Bredin smiled, proud of his skill. "I threw him and pinned him." Bredin abruptly made the connection. "You mean I could beat Kensie or Asen?" Bredin grinned and a speculative gleam appeared in his eye.

"How much trouble would you be in if you did that?" The priest tried to bring the boy back down to earth.

Bredin was still lost in the thought of inflicting punishment on his tormentors. "Dad would probably swat me hard." Bredin smiled, thinking the victory would be worth the beating.

"Bredin!" Father Toma said sharply. The boy's attention snapped back to the priest. "You might get beaten. What else do you think would happen?"

Bredin tried to think of other consequences. "I might get sent to gaol?" He guessed.

Father Toma snorted. "Unlikely. What do you think your father would do after he beat you?"

"He might send me away?" Bredin guessed again.

"Your father can't legally do that until you are fourteen. But he could apprentice you as a stableboy at an inn, or find something else even worse. He probably would take you out of your training here."

Bredin looked truly alarmed at the last. He had begun to enjoy his studies and training. "You mean I would have to leave?" He asked softly.

"If you hurt Lord Kensie, Count Wyeth would probably demand that you lose your place here. More than that, what do you think Count Wyeth might do to your father if he wanted to hurt you?"

"He might put dad in gaol?" Bredin worried.

"No. Bredin, a Lord can't put a commoner in gaol just because they are angry with them, not in Valdemar." Father Toma said. He decided to try another tack. "Bredin, has your father been busy for the last few moons?"

"Yes." Bredin said. Since the investiture, a steady stream of high-born and wealthy clients had come to Enro's shop to order fine saddles. Bredin had never seen his father so busy. Nor had Enro ever been happier. Though he had not relented on allowing Bredin to return to the shop, Enro now took time to speak with his middle son and to question him about his studies at the Temple.

"Why has he been busy?" Father Toma asked.

"Because all the nobles want him to make saddles for them." Bredin now realized what the priest was driving at. He looked at Father Toma with alarm. "You mean that the Count would get the nobles to stop buying from dad?" Bredin had no trouble imagining how angry Enro would be if that happened.

"Yes, Bredin. Count Wyeth is a very powerful man. He has many friends among the nobility. If Count Wyeth told his friends that he was angry with your father, they would stop buying your father's saddles." This, Father Toma knew, was the absolute truth. The desire to please and defer to Count Wyeth would certainly influence the buying decisions of the Count's peers.

Desperately, Bredin said. "I promise I will never get mad." He pleaded with Father Toma as though the priest could make it so.

Father Toma sighed. "Bredin, we all get angry. What you need to learn is how to control your anger."

Bredin stared at the priest. He nodded, waiting to hear more.

"After Midwinter, Bredin, I am going to have Brother Luca and Father Milo give you some special instruction. They will do things to make you angry and lose your temper."

"Huh?" Was all Bredin could say. He was baffled by the notion.

"They will try to make you angry, then show you how to control the anger before you do or say something wrong." Father Toma explained.

"You mean, so I don't hit someone?" Bredin was trying to imagine how he could control himself.

"Yes." The priest nodded. "Or say something that makes the other person angry."

"I don't understand, Father. How can I make myself not be angry?" Bredin looked at the priest with wide eyes.

"I think you will understand once you have had some lessons. Bredin. Are you willing to try?"

"Yes, Father. I don't want to get in trouble or get dad in trouble." Bredin nodded vigorously.

"Very well, Bredin. We will begin when classes resume after Midwinter holiday. For now, go home and enjoy Midwinter with your family." The priest rose and opened the door for the boy.

Bredin smiled at Father Toma and left. As he went out into the street, he met Tag and Rhys. Worries forgotten, the three boys had a snowball fight that lasted until the lights began going on in the houses around them.

Father Toma's concern blossomed into reality that very evening. For once, good luck was on Bredin's side.

Enro was just closing his shop as Bredin came down the street. Asen and Raid were waiting for Bredin, who came into the yard just as Enro turned around.

Springing out from their hiding places, Bredin's brothers tackled Bredin and shoved him into a snowbank. The two piled onto Bredin, attempting to push snow down his back.

Bredin reacted as Brother Luca had been training him. With a swing of his right leg, he swept Raid's legs out from under him. Raidal fell flat on his back, knocking the wind out of him.

Continuing the momentum from the sweep of his right leg, Bredin spun and pulled Asen over his hip. Asen landed flat on his face. Bredin pounced on his brother's back, placing his right arm around Asen's neck and twisting Asen's left index finger backwards.

Asen cried out in pain.

"Say 'uncle'". Bredin shouted in Asen's ear.

"Uncle." Asen submitted to his brother.

Bredin released Asen, who sprang to his feet and swung at Bredin. "You cheated. You fought dirty." Asen said as Bredin jumped backwards.

Asen pulled back to swing at Bredin again, only to feel Enro's firm grip on his arm. "You ambushed Bredin and got what was coming to you." Enro said. He glanced at Raid, who was still gasping for breath. "Both of you got what you deserved."

Bredin gaped at his father, scarcely believing that it was his brothers, not Bredin, who were in trouble for once. Still unsure, Bredin tried to placate his brother's anger. "I'm sorry Asen. I didn't mean to hurt you. You, too, Raid."

"You got nothing to apologize for, Bred." Enro actually smiled at his middle son. Putting his arm around Bredin's shoulder, he walked him towards the house. "Is that what they are teaching you at the temple?"

"Yes, dad. But Father Toma says I got to be careful so I don't cause trouble." Bredin looked up at Enro's face.

Enro laughed. "It looks like you finished the trouble this time, son."

Behind them, Asen helped Raidal to his feet.


End file.
